


Five Good Reasons to Fall in Love

by Gondolin



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blanket Permission, Canon Era, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Podfic Welcome, local cryptid Combeferre no one knows what he is studying, so I decided for him and picked medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 16:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: [originally posted on livejournal in 2014]“My best friend is bent on starting a revolution within the week. Please come help me stop him?”“Stop a revolution?” Jehan asked, outraged, “Never!”“You misunderstand me, my friend. We are part of the same student collective, him and I, with the only difference that I don't want us all arrested or shot before we've archived our goals. Pacifically, if possible, but that's beside the point.”





	Five Good Reasons to Fall in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hikary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/gifts).

> Hika said she didn't understand why I ship Jehan/Combeferre (among many other things), so I decided to show her.

**5 good reasons to fall in love (although Jehan would argue that there are no bad reasons for love)**

1 – Books

There was a pile of books. Behind the pile of books, there was probably a student, judging from the legs appearing underneath the pile of books. Jehan, always the gentleman, asked the student behind the books if he needed any help. A deep, rich voice (Jehan found it enchanting and immediately started to imagine it reading his poetry, giving it life) thanked him and the pile swayed dangerously. Before anything happened to those poor books (the exam term was a terrible time for books, you wouldn't imagine the accidents and coffees that happened to them), Jehan took a stack of them. Behind them, a friendly, albeit tired, face smiled at him. Thin glasses framed blue eyes, messy dark blonde hair fell everywhere and the smile revealed adorable dimples. Jehan decided he was going to keep him.

In winter, the library was freezing. It meant that it was less crowded, but studying became nigh impossible in that cold. Combeferre started to bring blankets and, when that wasn't enough, to huddle against Jehan in search of warmth. It was so marvellously inappropriate, Jehan's heart soared. He could write for hours about Combeferre's thigh touching his through their winter clothes, or about the way he blew into his hands to warm them and then leaned a little more towards Jehan. One of his most treasured memories became that of a day when Combeferre had fallen asleep with his head on his shoulder.

2 – Food

It became a habit before they even realized it. Sometimes Combeferre had so many lectures, he didn't have time to eat, and sometimes Jehan set his mind to finishing that one book in one afternoon and he wouldn't get up until he was done. So Jehan would wait for Combeferre outside the Université with a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, or Combeferre would find his friend's hideaway of the day and invite him out for dinner, “no, Jehan, I don't care if there is that last poem you really want to read, you're looking way too pale for my liking and you will come dine with me.”

If he still argued, there was the infallible: “Doctor's orders,” to which Jehan always replied: “Not a doctor yet,” but followed.

They even started to cook together, occasionally, especially when their expenses had risen and they wanted to avoid eating out. They were a seamless team, one chopping vegetables and meat and the other preparing it, taking turns.

3 – Poetry

It took Jehan some time before finally asking Combeferre to read some of his poetry. Even more, to ask him to read it out loud. But when he did, Combeferre showed unexpected enthusiasm. He'd never asked to read Jehan's poetry before, and the young student had feared he wasn't interested. He'd noticed Combeferre's reading interests were eclectic to say the least, but he hadn't had a chance to discover if poetry was a part of them.

“You'd let me? Really?”

“Of course. I've been wanting to ask for a while, but...”

“I wanted to ask to read your works, but I didn't want to press you or to appear rude in my curiosity. It seems we've both been too timid,” Combeferre concluded, with one of his gentle smiles.

“I promise to be bold, then!” Jehan exclaimed.

4 – Ideals

“My best friend is bent on starting a revolution within the week. Please come help me stop him?”

“Stop a revolution?” Jehan asked, outraged, “Never!”

“You misunderstand me, my friend. We are part of the same student collective, him and I, with the only difference that I don't want us all arrested or shot before we've archived our goals. Pacifically, if possible, but that's beside the point.”

“It's never beside the point. Please tell me.”

“I want, no, I demand freedom. I await progress. Yet I fear bloodshed, because it makes the good guilty and the bad victims – and because I value human life, mine and other's. We've already taken part in an uprising two years ago and the soldiers on the other side are the same kind of people we are fighting _for_, not _against_.”

“But what if violence is necessary?”

“Then we we will be prepared, and win.”

5 – Opera

“We are all going to see the Opera tonight,” Courfeyrac announced, “And I mean, I am inviting you all.”

“What is the occasion?” Bossuet asked.

“There is a new singer whom I've heard wonders about. A reviewer went so far as to say that she's better than Giudicelli, and that she could make a marble statue weep.”

Grantaire groaned audibly at that, but everyone else managed to keep their thoughts to themselves.

“Also, a friend of mine is a huge fan of her, so he said he can get us the best box,” Courfeyrac leaned conspiratorially against Jehan, “He's a Vicomte, but don't tell Enjolras.”

“I can hear you, you know,” the man in question said, “And, for the record, although I strongly object to our country's attachment to the obsolete institution of nobility, I would never hold it personally against an individual.”

By the time _Think of Me_ rolled around, statues surely weren't crying, but Courfeyrac was. And so was Jehan. And even Enjolras' eyes were shiny – shiny_er_ than usual, anyway.

There was a bustling of handkerchiefs, but Jehan soon realized he had forgotten his. Combeferre, sniffling quietly at his side, automatically held out his own for him to use. His hand, then, instead of returning to his lap, rested on Jehan's tight.

(6)

“Truth is,” Jehan concludes, “Love needs no reason. Love will find its reasons and lay them bare for you to see, but only for you. Love won't let itself be questioned, but it will give you his answers. I know that there is so much going on right now, and that you might think Love should have to wait, to bow the majestic steps of History, but I tell you now: Love is never egoistic, and therefore is in itself revolutionary.

“We speak so much of the love for our Country, but what is it, if not the sublimed, the distilled form of that love you all hold for your friends and lovers, for your fellow citizens and for the citizens of our neighbouring countries, so that they might see a beacon of liberty and take us for an example?

“Love is the mother and father of bravery, because without something to live for, there is no cause worth dying for.

“Some of you might say that Love will make you weak, but the truth is that Love gives the heart strength just like exercise gives strength to the body. There is no fight it cannot win because Love never accepts a defeat. Love is mighty and terrifying, and if you are brave enough to look it in the eye, then you will laugh in the face of Death – and of the National Guard. If Love doesn't move you, then nothing will.”

He paused for a moment to send a knowing look to Grantaire. He had been the only one to never question his reasons for being there, amongst believers.

“So I say, love and be free. We have one: we will have the other, for us or for our descendants.”

An instant of pure, unspoiled silence, followed Jehan's impassioned voice. Then applause, so loud they would have appeared to be nine thousand instead of nine.

(Bonus: that time they did opium together for science)

It was a rare thing to see Combeferre truly angry, but a frustrated Combeferre was a common enough sight. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up and he kept running his fingers through his hair – a dishevelled looked that Jehan secretly appreciated more than his usual respectable looking attire.

“One of my professors still thinks that operations will still be as painful as today in a hundred years time!” he exclaimed, scandalized, “That he's not even interested in pursuing methods to lessen the pain! He's one of those who wants to cure the illness without any regard for the person. I detest his backwards views almost as much as I detest the monarchy.”

“One of mine says getting a patient drunk is as good as we'll get,” Joly intervened, “Despite the evidence of it causing augmented bleeding and other disadvantages. I myself am more in favour of opium,” he concluded.

“Opium...” Combeferre considered, “Might be as bad. And it causes addiction.”

“Not if used properly, I believe, and just once.”

“I agree with Joly,” Grantaire said unexpectedly.

“What do you know of medicine?” Combeferre asked, curious.

“I know that I'd rather not have anyone cut me open. I know opium, though.”

“_Grantaire_!” Joly exclaimed, already getting worried as was his want.

“Don't fret, monsieur Jolllly, it is not as addictive as our dear Combeferre fears.”

Jehan, who up to that moment had been silent, half reading a History of Poetical Composition and half listening, proposed: “We should all try it.”

Grantaire laughed, while the two medical students regarded him with near identical puzzled looks.

“Now this is what I call a good idea, my dear poet. _Mam'selle l'__inspiration_ is said to follow the green fairy, so why not her noble cousin too.”

“It's not inspiration we're looking for,” Joly said, “It's science.”

“Whatever you wish. Shall we go?”

“Now?”

“I don't like long term plans.”

“You insufferable,” said Jehan affectionately, taking his arm. Then, turning back to their friends. “_Alor_?”

They sighed and followed them.

There were not as many opium dens in Paris as there were in London. The Frenchmen's escapism of choice seemed to still be wine or liquor. Still, a few smoky, dark parlours were scattered around the city, and Grantaire of course knew the best and the worse of them.

They found themselves enveloped in the strange atmosphere and in the low seats with countless cushions even before than the spirals of smoke had passed through their mouths.

Jehan leaned in close to Combeferre. “Shall I take notes for you?” he whispered.

Combeferre blew a puff of smoke in his face, and they laughed. Before they even realized it, they were laughing again at nothing, their limbs too heavy to move, Jehan's head on Combeferre's shoulder. Grantaire had somehow ended up on the floor and was resting his back against Joly's legs, smiling more peacefully than they'd ever seen him do.

“We should make an experiment,” Combeferre announced, “About the sensibility of the limbs.”

Jehan was the only to lend him any attention. “I shall pinch you, and you tell me if it hurts,” he suggested, laughing again.

“You are a very intelligent man, Jean Prouvaire,” Combeferre nodded, “Absolutely brilliant. I would quite like to kiss you now. Because I adore you.”

They kissed. Jehan _did_ pinch Combeferre, who took absolutely no notice, otherwise distracted.

The experiment was an absolute success and Combeferre had to wear a scarf to class for the following week.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Courfeyrac is friends with Raoul from the Phantom of the Opera, even though the two fandoms are a few years apart, okay, I couldn't resist.


End file.
